


trust in love

by aohatsu



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: Their bonding was his idea, and though he’d cited the promotional requirements and that they both needed a bondmate to advance any further in society—particularly Vers, though she was unaware of the reasons—the truth was that he also often found his gaze straying toward her, his pulse quickening as he watched her move.Bonding had been a political move, there was no question, but it was not a decision he’d been disappointed with.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	trust in love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snickfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/gifts).



Yon-Rogg closes his eyes against the sudden warmth at his back. Strong arms wrap around his shoulders, water dripping from pale skin and into the fabric of his shirt. He tilts his head slightly when Vers brushes her lips gently against the side of his neck.

“You’re wet,” he tells her.

“Not yet,” she answers, but it’s the water dripping off her skin that he’d been talking about. The way his shirt is beginning to dampen and stick to his skin. She’s clearly naked, just come from the shower, and with her usual lack of decorum, has elected to press against him and soak his clothing as well.

“You could fix that,” she says, grazing the skin of his shoulder with her teeth. He can practically feel her grin.

The quarters so recently assigned to them are larger than any Yon-Rogg has had before. The sleeping room is large enough for two to share, of course, and the bathing facilities supplied with a single hyper jet as is standard, but there’s also a small area designed for study, and a slightly larger area prepared for low impact exercise and training. There’s also a large window inset in one of the walls; Hala is spread out brightly before them should they keep the windows translucent rather than darkening them for sleep.

He and Vers had broken in the exercise mat when they’d first been given the rooms after their bonding ceremony earlier in the day. They’d been covered in sweat by the end, and Yon-Rogg has several new bruises for all his attempts to teach Vers how to focus and control her anger.

She’s far too reliant on the extra strength in her fists, and she doesn’t even know the true extent of that power.

“Would you like me to?” he asks, turning to see her. She steps back, and he looks his fill at her body. She’s naked, of course, water dripping down her skin, a particularly distracting line slipping between her soft breasts. Her stomach is toned and strong, her arms and thighs thick with lean muscle. Her hair clings to her skin.

She cocks her hip out to the side and says, “You could try. I don’t know. Have you ever managed it before?”

It’s paramount that she learn to control herself.

Ultimately, she had lost the match when he’d pinned her beneath his thighs.

She’s taking her revenge for the loss now by embracing him while soaking wet, her flirtations notwithstanding.

Still, she steps closer, her fingers slipping under his shirt, her nails scraping against his skin.

Yon-Rogg huffs an amused laugh.

“I’m more than capable,” he tells her, “but I’m happy to prove it you.”

When the Supreme Intelligence granted their request for a bonding, there had been no qualification requiring reproduction efforts. Vers’ species must be a voracious one; she has not stopped touching him, subtle and with the sort of cocky attitude that drives him to frustration, since the ceremony that morning.

He has, perhaps, not discouraged the behavior by touching the dip in her back, by running his hand through her hair. By sitting atop her on the mat, their bodies slick with sweat and their chests heaving from effort and their abdomens quivering with half-acknowledged anticipation as they look into one another’s faces.

She is not one, he thinks, to dance around an idea once she’s decided she wants it.

She is more likely to grasp it both hands and pull as hard as she’s able.

She is stubborn, strong, cocky, kind.

She is alluring. Tantalizing.

Their bonding was his idea, and though he’d cited the promotional requirements and that they both needed a bondmate to advance any further in society—particularly Vers, though she was unaware of the reasons—the truth was that he also often found his gaze straying toward her, his pulse quickening as he watched her move.

Bonding had been a political move, there was no question, but it was not a decision he’d been disappointed with.

He lifts his hands, running his fingers and palms lightly against her sides. Her body is hard with muscle, but with well-defined curves and pliable, delicate, and soft pale skin. She shivers at his touch; her nipples are peaked to perfection, no doubt chilled in their temperature controlled quarters due to her wet, naked body.

He wants her, desperately.

She is Kree, now. That’s no lie; everything he has told her is true in this new life she has on Hala, this new life she has chosen to keep with him. The Kree expansion is glorious, purposeful work, and she will become a pure light of strength for their civilization.

He hates the sick, burning ball of guilt in his gut that never seems to disappear, no matter how far he shoves it down, no matter how often the Supreme Intelligence sees his weakness and tears him apart for it, again and again and again, having to remind him as though he were an unlearned _child_ that there is a greater good to fight for.

The good of the Kree, their expansion and the protection of their citizens and territories is worth more than a small lie, a bent truth. One woman’s soft, uninformed memories when her new life provides her with so much more than she could have ever had before.

He runs his hand through her hair, but his fingers stick in the wet strands and she winces.

“Off to a great start there,” she says, her voice laughing as she reaches up to help him untangle his fingers.

He pushes forward, pressing their bodies together, and slides his mouth against hers. She responds instantly in kind, grabbing him harshly and dragging him over to the hard bed, large enough for two to share—an optional choice, one they’d silently made together, when they could have easily asked for two separate pods until ordered to engage in reproduction. He lands hard on his back on the mattress, Vers falling on top of him and dragging his shirt over his head, his pants down his legs.

Their harsh breathing is lost between affirmative murmurs and the occasional burst of laughter when Yon-Rogg’s fingers brush too softly, when Vers’ knee presses too hard between his legs in just the wrong spot. Finally, she’s soft and wet between her thighs, dripping from his efforts to please her—and avoid the no doubt substantial teasing he’d be prey to if he failed in that particular mission afterward—and she sits atop him, sinking down until his cock is sheathed inside her, surrounded by her hot, wet heat.

He clutches at her hips, his fingers tightly squeezing imprints into the skin. She scratches her nails down his chest and she breathes, “Right—right there. God, _yes_.”

He cannot help but gasp, his breath punched out of him, as she raises her thighs and plunges back down. She throws her head back, fucking him now with desperate abandon.

Vers is wholly more than anything he has ever felt before.

She is beautiful. Strong. Her soft moans are his undoing.

His chest feels tight, his stomach tense. Every movement of her hips sends an electrical through his body, a temptation too impossible to resist. He comes inside her, groaning and grasping for her shoulders to tug her down and pull her mouth into a wet, uncontrolled kiss, nothing more than a mash of lips and tongues and moaning pleas.

He finishes her off with his tongue a moment later, her sticky fluids a sweet and yet bitter taste on his tongue and smeared across his cheeks and chin.

She collapses next to him, her body still wet, though she’s hardly clean any longer.

They’ll both need to use the hyper jet again before they retire for the night.

He closes his eyes.

He does not, in truth, know her name.

The tag she’d worn was broken; all that they could read was _VERS_.

But he knows the planet she’s from. The home that she once had; the association with Mar-Vell that brought her to her near doom, that granted her the power in her fists. He knows nothing else, nothing else but that the Supreme Intelligence saw the same opportunity Yon-Rogg had and created the lie that he and the others all accepted.

The truth of it is in his throat.

If he goes before the Supreme Intelligence with this—this doubt, this shame and guilt in his mind, he has little doubt that it will kill him. Loyalty to the Kree, to Hala and the Supreme Intelligence—it is paramount. It comes first.

He is loyal.

He believes in the expansion, in the Kree Empire.

He believes in everything they do, and yet Vers is sliding off the bed, her thighs wet from his own administrations.

They bonded for promotional, political, militaristic purposes. Any emotional or sexual pleasure to be found in the bonding is a boon, not an important cause.

He covers his face with his hand.

The Supreme Intelligence will kill him.

He’s fallen in love with her.

“You coming to wash off?” she asks, and she sounds—uncertain. Suspicious.

He sits up. He’s as naked as she is, as covered in the evidence of their actions as she is.

He is far from innocent.

He says, “I need to tell you something.”

“Are you sure about this?” Yon-Rogg asks Vers while looking disdainfully at the two Skrulls standing in front of him. They look as ill-at-ease about this plan as Yon-Rogg feels.

“Yeah, you sure about this?” the other woman— _Maria_ , a friend from Vers’ past life on C-53—asks as well, though she gives Yon-Rogg as much an unsure, slightly-disbelieving and mildly-affronted look as she aims at the Skrulls. Yon-Rogg nearly rolls his eyes; by this point, none of the inhabitants of C-53 should doubt his intentions. He's risking the wrath of the Supreme Intelligence and betraying his own people. He thinks he deserves some trust and gratitude.

He looks back to Vers. Rather, he looks to Carol. Her name is _Carol Danvers._ Yon-Rogg isn't entirely sure if he approves of the change. It isn't, of course, his call to make, and she's told him, soft and quiet and voice broken with anger and confusion, what her name is. He still has the bruise on his cheek to remember the moment by.

Carol crosses her arms. “I’m sure,” she tells them both. She's smirking when she adds, specifically looking at him, “And you’ve forfeited any right to question my decisions, remember? I’m clearly better at them.”

That wasn’t exactly how that conversation had gone.

Still, in this particular instance, it isn't... completely inaccurate.

He nods, rather than arguing with her. He'd rather like to be back in her good graces, which requires sacrifice—such as helping the Skrulls and, apparently, consorting with _Flerkens_. Considering how dedicated Mar-Vell had been to this peace-keeping initiative of hers, he can’t believe she’d had a dangerous creature like that on a planet as weak and defenseless as C-53. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that the planet had been completely destroyed at some point in the last two years what with a Flerken running around completely unmonitored.

“Yon-Rogg,” Carol says after a moment. Yon-Rogg had been watching the smallest of the Earth-Terrans with no little amount of horrified fascination. She sat on the ground in the grass, the Flerken curled up and purring in her lap. None of the others—save the Skrulls—seemed particularly concerned by the girl's actions. This carefree lack of worry when it comes to danger must be a characteristic of the entire species, which is a concern to keep in mind if he and Vers— _Carol_ —ever do decide to have children of their own.

He drags his eyes back up to meet Carol's.

“Do I have orders?” he asks, drawling the question out.

Disappointingly, she doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she deadpans, “Yes, you do. Go with Norex and see if you can start getting the plane ready for space travel.”

He and the Skrull in question look at each other—Yon-Rogg turning up his nose obviously and Norex with an expression of uncertain hesitation, and perhaps even fear in his eyes. Yon-Rogg huffs; he supposes that will have to be good enough, given the circumstances.

He sighs. “Norex, is it? Let’s go. The captain has given us her orders.”

Carol kicks him in the shin. He curses under his breath, but feels something flutter in his stomach. She's poorly hiding a smile.

As he and Norex leave the area to head towards the ship, Yon-Rogg faintly hears the male Terran say, "That guy is really your husband? Interesting choice you made there."

Carol's response, which he slows to hear, is "Don't worry, his bark is worse than his bite."

He isn't sure if that's reassuring or insulting. 

But in truth, he can handle the Earth-Terrans and their opinions of him. He can even settle his doubts with betraying the Kree and painting a target on his back with the Supreme Intelligence and get used to watching a child pet a Flerken without fear.

What's truly disturbing is that he's now referring to a _Skrull_ by its actual given name and working with it as members of the same team, so to speak.

He shakes his head. The things you do for love.


End file.
